


Date Night

by Raissa_Baiard



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21536989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raissa_Baiard/pseuds/Raissa_Baiard
Summary: When the rest of the crew are off on a supply run, Kanan and Hera finally get a night to themselves--but getting to their date night won't be easy.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

Thanks to @Findswoman for beta reading and encouragement

To Mr. Baiard--who looks pretty darn good with a Kanan Jarrus goatee

\-------------------------  
**Part One**

A standard VCX-100 freighter provided accommodations for up to eight crew members; Hera often wondered if whoever designed the ship’s galley had been aware of that fact.

Now that there were five of them--six, including Chopper, who didn’t eat but had to be where everyone else was--the _Ghost’s_ tiny kitchen and dining area felt more crowded than cozy. Still, as “mom” for this odd little family, Hera encouraged them to come together for meals, especially breakfast. In theory, it was a chance to spend some time talking and relaxing before they all headed out their separate ways. In practice, breakfast was noisy and rushed as everyone grabbed their preferred breakfast--hash for Zeb, haarshun bread for Sabine, ration bars for Ezra--and a mug of caf and bolted it down before running off. She was lucky if she had enough time to brief them on the day’s mission before they scattered. “Don’t forget,” Hera said as Zeb shoved his way out of the dining alcove past Ezra and Sabine finished her caf. “The three of you are going on a supply run tonight. Chopper, make sure you have the pre-flight diagnostics run, and Zeb, get the Phantom refueled before 17:00. You all need be at the North Hoofstra spaceport to meet your contact at Docking Bay 91 at 19:00 sharp.” 

Predictably, the objections started ten milliseconds after she finished.

“BWAAAAP! Bwaa bwop _bwaa_ bwopbwabwop!”

“Why’s this guy gotta wait so late to meet, anyway? Sounds kinda dodgy, if you ask me!”

“I don't know why I have to go if Zeb and Ezra are both going.”

“Yeah, why does Sabine have to go? I can fly the _Phantom_!”

Hera sighed and drummed her fingers against the table. Was it too much to hope that someday when she gave them all the day’s missions, they’d simply agree? _Sure thing, Hera! No problem._ Just once? She stood up, picking up her dishes, and addressed each complainant in turn:

“Chopper, you have to run the diagnostics because you always have to run the diagnostics; it’s standard procedure.

“Of course it sounds dodgy, Zeb. Anyone who’s willing to sell weapons and supplies to the Rebellion is, by definition, dodgy.

“Sabine is going because she knows how to handle explosives; there are two pallets of thermal detonators among the supplies and I’d like them--and you--to come back in one piece. Maybe you can fly next time, Ezra.” 

Her answers satisfied no one; they left the galley grumbling at the _unfairness_ of it all, leaving a pile of dirty dishes in their wake. Hera sighed; sometimes she wanted to remind them that she was not, in fact, their mother, and even if she were, they were certainly capable of picking up after themselves. She gathered up the rest of the dishes--somebody had to--and took them to the sonic dishwasher.

Kanan, who had listened silently to the morning’s litany of woes, rose from the table as the door slid shut behind Zeb. “Wait, they’re _all_ going on the supply run?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Hera scraped the greasy remains of Zeb’s hash into the trash chute and put the plate in the dishwasher. “And they’re taking Chopper, too.” Their contact was a paranoid type who required an electronic passcode before giving them the supplies, so like it or not--and of course he didn’t--the astromech droid was necessary for the mission. It was a two-hour flight to North Hoofstra, and figuring in an hour to load everything, she was looking forward to at least five hours of glorious quiet. 

He crossed the narrow galley in two strides and stood behind her, putting his arms around her waist as she set a pair caf mugs in the top rack. ”You realize what this means, don’t you?” The warmth of his breath tickled against her lekku.

“That we’re going to have a night to ourselves?” Hera turned around in Kanan’s arms and set her hands on his shoulders. She leaned against the counter, smiling up at him. The rest of the dishes could wait. “Yes, I’m aware of that.” 

Kanan raised an eyebrow, and there was a roguish gleam in his green eyes. “So, what did you have in mind? Heading into Garel City? Hitting the cantinas?”

“I was thinking more about staying in,” she replied, trailing one hand down to his chest. “You...me... a quiet dinner… watching a holo…”

“That almost sounds like a date.” Kanan’s mouth curved into one of his rare smiles. He pulled her a little closer, leaning in.

“Doesn’t it, though?” Hera agreed, as she stretched up to claim his kiss.

“I can’t wait.”


	2. Chapter 2

Before Hera could even think about her quiet night with Kanan, there was the usual kilometer-long list of things to do.

The first order of business was monitoring the holo-news, and it was never good. The Empire had established more weapons factories on Phindar and was busily despoiling their rain forests. Grand Moff Tarkin continued to redefine and erode the laws that protected Legacy planets. But the situation in the Lothal sector was relatively quiet, for the moment, and there were no emergency dispatches from Ahsoka to throw a hydro-spanner into Hera’s plans for that evening. 

Once she’d finished with all her updates, Hera took one of the speeder bikes to the far side of Garel City’s labyrinthine spaceport complex to meet with Commander Sato. They discussed the distribution of the fuel cells that Ezra had gotten from Hondo Ohnaka to Rinn, rumors of an incipient rebel cell on Mykapo, and how they might contact them. 

Next on the list was a trip into Garel city to pick up a few things for her dinner plans, without the rest of the crew knowing. She’d found an excellent recipe for nerf steak à la Quor-sav that would be perfect with a salad, some pastries...maybe she could even find some Lothalian currant wine to go with it. Of course, mentioning any of that to the others would just invite them to make personal comments about how she and Kanan would be spending their evening-- “watching a holo...is that what they call it now?”, “Fancy dinner, huh? Wonder what’s for _dessert_?”--that kind of thing. And she was _so_ not in the mood for it.

The Rebellion’s supply depot didn’t stock nerf steak and Rylothan cantarell fungus. Their goods tended towards bland, processed and pre-packaged, and Hera wasn’t about to resort to reconstituted synth-steak and freeze-dried mushrooms, not tonight. Opportunities for quality time with Kanan were too hard to come by. 

Fortunately, the marketplace was only a few minutes by speeder from the spaceport. She found the pom-flour and spices she needed easily enough-- Sabine had used the entire jar of boontaspice the last time she’d made tiingilar, and they were running low on garlic and catabar--and got salad greens and the cantarells at the produce stand. However, she had to haggle for the nerf tenderloins with a toothy Shistavanen butcher who looked like he enjoyed his work entirely too much. It took her nearly fifteen minutes of negotiation to get a fair price from him, but by the time she was done, Hera trusted he’d realized that not every female Twi’lek was a vapid piece of eye candy. The cheery Squib wine merchant was out of Lothalian wine, but Hera managed to find some lovely buttersweet puffs at a nearby bakery.

It wasn’t exactly surprising that no one was around when Hera returned with her packages, and even less of a surprise that the _Phantom_ was still waiting to be prepped for that night’s run. She managed to sling all her bags over her shoulder and carry them into the ship. 

Zeb and Ezra were coming out of the galley as she was in the corridor. “You refueled the _Phantom_ , right?” Hera asked Zeb and received only a shifty, slightly hangdog look from the Lasat in return. “Your stunned silence is very reassuring. Go. Now. And you,” she told a smirking Ezra. “Go help him since he can’t seem to figure it out by himself. You’re leaving in less than two hours!” she called after them. 

She set her packages on the galley’s counter with a sigh and unwrapped the nerf tenderloins. They were a little thicker than she would have liked, so she found the meat mallet, shoved to the back of the drawer of kitchen tools. Pounding the steak was strangely therapeutic, and she’d almost gotten into a rhythm when the door slid open behind her. 

“Whoa… Hope that’s not supposed to be me.” Kanan commented as he entered.

“Not yet.” Though she did wonder what exactly he’d been doing all day and why _he_ hadn’t done anything to get the crew moving on their tasks...

He leaned against the counter. “So, which one of them has driven you to commit unprovoked acts of violence against nerf steak today? No, wait...” Kanan held up a hand and touched his fingers to his temple. “Let me use my Jedi intuition… All of them.”

“You’re wise indeed, Master Jedi.” She gave one of the steaks a last thump. “How many times do I have to remind them…”

Kanan disengaged the mallet, which she’d unintentionally been waving as she spoke, from her hand and set it on the counter. “Anything I can do to help?”

“If you want to wash and tear the greens while I prepare the steaks and mushrooms, that would be wonderful.” Hera mixed the boontaspice and catabar into the pom-flour and dredged the meat in the mixture. She added a little pepper oil to one skillet and some butter and garlic to another.

“What are you making?” Kanan asked as he started shredding the lettuce and kibla greens into a large bowl.

The nerf steaks sizzled as she set them in the larger pan. “Seared nerf tenderloin and sautéed Rylothan cantarells, with mixed green salad and buttersweet pastries.”

“That’s ambitious!” 

“Well, we don’t have time to ourselves very often,” Hera said as she rinsed the cantarells. She patted them dry and tossed them into the pan with the butter and garlic. “I wanted it to be special.”

He set the salad on the table and came up behind Hera. Looping an arm around her waist, he turned her towards him. “As long as you're there, it will be,” Kanan told her, reaching up to stroke her cheek. 

“Mmm.. flatterer.” She leaned her head against his shoulder as his arms tightened around her.

“I have a few ideas, too…”

“I’m sure you do.” Hera smiled, and Kanan leaned forward, perhaps to demonstrate a few of those ideas...

The galley door slid open.

“BWOP!” Chopper exclaimed, as they sprang apart. “Bwaa bwaaabwop b’bwap bwa bwopbwop!”

“Oh, you finally ran the diagnostics like I asked you to this morning; well, thank you very much!” 

“Bwaa!” the droid insisted. “Bwabwop bwop bwaabwa bwopbwop.”

“What? Ugh...this is why I told you not to wait until the last minute!”

“What’s up?” Kanan asked, eyeing Chopper a bit resentfully. 

“The _Phantom’s_ fuel line is acting up again.” It had been unreliable ever since that skirmish with the Gozanti cruisers over Lothal. “Here.” She picked up a pair of tongs from the counter and thrust them into Kanan’s hand. “Watch the steaks, and turn them over when the timer gets to fifteen.”

“Fifty?”

“Fifteen!” she called back, leaving a bewildered looking Kanan prodding the the nerf steaks with the tongs. 

Chopper’s vague “trouble with the fuel line” turned out to be not one, but three separate leaks. It took an eternity with sealant spray and engine tape to get the faulty line back to normal, only to discover that vrelts had made a nest in the control panel and chewed their way through the air filter. It took a muttering Chopper five tries to find the correct size to replace it, while Hera vacuumed the rodents’ smelly leavings out of the wiring. She sealed the panel back in place just twenty minutes before the kids were due to leave...and none of them were anywhere to be seen. 

Hera ordered Chopper to stay put, receiving another zoochberry and a string of electronic muttering in reply. She was muttering to herself as darkly and creatively as Chopper by the time she returned to the galley. Kanan had disappeared, but Zeb and Ezra were sitting in the dining alcove...the remains of the nerf steak à la Quor-sav with sautéed Rylothan cantarells on their plates. “What are you doing?!?”

Ezra paused in chewing long enough to stare at her as if the answer was really quite obvious. “Having dinner,” he said through his mouthful of steak. “This is really good; you should make it more often! ’S a little rare, though.”

“Yeah.” Zeb speared a mushroom and popped it into his toothy maw. “It's gonna be a while, we figured we might as well have a bite before taking off.”

“What do you mean ‘it’s gonna be a while’?” Hera demanded. “You’re supposed to be leaving in 15 minutes.”

“Sabine’s in the middle of coloring her hair. She said she was looking faded.” Ezra shrugged at the vagaries of girls with technicolor hair and their incomprehensible beauty regimens. “She kind of yelled at us when we asked if she was ready to go.” 

“Now?!? She had to do it _now_?” Hera didn’t wait for him to answer; she stalked down the hallway to Sabine’s cabin and rapped on the door. 

When she answered, Sabine’s hair was slicked back to her head, covered with dark blue goop. “What?! Oh, hey, Hera. I thought you were Ezra again. What a pest! He does _not_ understand how important it is to time the color right.”

“You need to get ready for your supply run now,” Hera said, trying to keep her voice level. The look that Sabine gave her in return indicated that she was now on a level of Those Who Do Not Understand with that pest, Ezra. 

“I’ve got ten minutes before it’s ready to rinse!”

“Sabine! It takes two hours to get to North Hoofstra! If you’re not there on time, this whole deal falls through and we don’t have any supplies for the next month.”

“Relax, I can get us there on time. It doesn’t really take two hours, not if you…”

“Go. Rinse. Your Hair.” 

“Ugh...fine, but it won’t be…”

“Sabine!”

The Mandalorian girl pushed past Hera with another inarticulate noise of disgust and stomped off to the ’fresher. 

Hera returned to the galley, where Zeb and Ezra were picking over the crumbs of what had been a box of a dozen buttersweet puffs, while Kanan looked on in dismay. A few minutes later, Sabine stormed in like a soggy thundercloud, her hair clinging to her face in damp tendrils.

“You look like a bright blue drowned rat,” Zeb informed her, grinning broadly, while Ezra snickered behind him.

“Thanks,” she growled. “The Captain didn’t give me enough time to dry my hair. Come on.”

Hera sagged against the counter as the trio departed. “What happened?” she demanded of Kanan. “I asked you to watch the steaks, and when I came back the guys were devouring our romantic dinner like a pair of starved rancors!”

“I did watch them!” Kanan protested. “I flipped them over on fifteen, just like you said. But then I realized I really needed to polish my lightsaber.”

“Right then?” Hera raised an eyebrow. Honestly, _men_... “I know we don’t get to spend a lot of time together lately, but you couldn’t have at least waited until after dinner?”

“Well, I’d been working on it all afternoon, and it was pretty greasy. “ He shrugged. “I never realized how hard it is to replace a flux-torque casing.”

“Wait...what?” 

Kanan gave her a puzzled look and then the roguish gleam came back to his eyes. “And just what did you think I was talking about?” He put a hand on the counter on either side of her and leaned in. “Maybe later you can…”

The galley door slid open. Again.

“What is it now?” Kanan asked through clenched teeth, straightening up. 

Ezra peered in the doorway, eyes darting between his master and captain and the slightly awkward position they were in. “Forgot my lightsaber. Guess I must have left it in here while I was eating.”

Hera bit back an exasperated sigh.“Do you really need it?” 

“Uh...yeah…”

“Fine.” Kanan strode over to the dining alcove, picked the saber up and threw it at Ezra, who caught it with an “oof.” “Now get going.”

“Wow, what’s your…”

“GO!” Kanan and Hera shouted in unison.

“I’m going! I’m going!” Ezra scrambled out of the galley so fast that he skidded and slid around the corner.

The door slid closed, and Kanan slipped his arms around Hera’s waist. “So, where were we?”

“No, wait…” She held up a hand and waited, listening, listening, until the sound of the _Phantom’s_ engines reverberated through the galley. When she heard the roar of the shuttle taking off-- _at last_ \--she heaved a sigh of relief and threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a kiss. “Now.”


	3. Chapter 3

The pans on the cooktop were empty except for a faint smear of grease and a single sliver of mushroom. Hera eyed them and the crumb-filled pastry box with some consternation. She removed the pans from the stove, shoved them into the sonic dishwasher-- perhaps a bit harder than was necessary-- crumpled the box and tossed it in the trash compactor .“So much for our romantic dinner. Of course, they left the salad--those two never voluntarily touch vegetables unless it’s on a ziippa.” Hera pursed her lips, her lekku twitching thoughtfully, and went to the conservator.

“What are you looking for?” Kanan asked as she peered inside.

“Anything I can use to salvage this meal.” She located a vacuum-sealed package of StarToucht single-serve chunk light nuna, a jar of Corellian vinaigrette and--shoved to the back and hidden behind a bowl of leftover cream of fleek eel soup--a small canister of crumbled Tatooinian blue cheese. 

“How about these?” Kanan, who had been rummaging through the cabinets, offered her a packets of dried jogan fruit and spiced warra nuts.

“Perfect.” Hera tossed all the ingredients into the salad and divided it onto two plates. It didn’t look like much, and it definitely wasn’t what she’d been planning, but it would have to do. “They didn’t have any Lothalian currant wine at the market, so you get Zero-Gravity Fizzyglug.” Of course, they didn’t have any wine glasses either, and for some reason the only clean glasses were a set of green plasti tumblers emblazoned with the logo of the Corellian Dreadnaughts smashball team. The effervescent liquid fizzed and popped as she poured it into two of the tumblers.

“That purple stuff Ezra drinks?” Kanan wrinkled his nose as he slid into the dining alcove. 

Hera set the glasses and the plates of salad on the table, along with some of the galley’s slightly tarnished cutlery. “It’s as close as I could get to sparkling wine.”

“It’s fine,” Kanan assured her, picking up his tumbler as she slipped in next to him. Even though there was more than enough room for two of them, Hera moved in close to him. Without a burly Lasat and a pair of snarking teenagers crammed in, too, the booth was merely cozy, and the coziness was quite nice. Kanan raised his Dreadnaughts tumbler to her. “To finally getting to spend time together.”

She raised her own glass with a smile “To time together.” Hera took a sip of the bubbly, bright purple soda and coughed. The zoochberry flavor wasn’t bad, if almost tooth-achingly sweet, but there was a bit too much “fizzy” in Fizzyglug for her. How did Ezra drink this stuff? “So, tell me why your lightsaber was in such desperate need of polishing. And what exactly is a torqued flux casing, anyway?”

“Flux-torque casing,” Kanan corrected. “The one on my lightsaber’s emitter shroud was completely stripped, and I couldn’t get the hilt to screw in properly….why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh, no reason…” Hera stifled a smirk, but her lekku twitched with amusement. “Sounds very serious,” she ventured as she took a bite of salad. She could fix almost anything on the _Ghost_ with spacer’s tape and baling wire, but lightsaber parts? He might as well be speaking Gree.

“It was! I had to go into Garel City to get a new one, and of course Ezra followed me.” As they ate, Kanan related his foray to Grug’s hardware store, his encounter with the garrulous Ugnaught proprietor, and the outlandish tale of “Master Meiloorunbaum,” the vocal teacher Ezra spun to quell the shopkeeper’s persistent questions. “It took forever to actually replace the casing. Let me tell you, whoever drew the diagrams for the padawans’ lightsaber manuals must have been working on an entirely different optical frequency! And when I finished, everyone was standing around outside the control room, listening, like they thought I was doing something...I don’t know...improper in there.” Kanan shook his head, still perplexed by his crew’s incongruous behavior. “For some reason, they didn’t think I’d want you knowing I had lightsaber problems.”

“Amazing how they have time to stand around spying on you, but they can’t get their work done until the last possible minute. And Sabine! What in space possessed the girl to dye her hair fifteen minutes before departure?” Just like a certain other someone who absolutely _had_ to polish his lightsaber. Hera raised an eyebrow at him. “She gets it from you, you realize.”

“We're not _really_ their parents, you realize.” 

“No. But just think,” Hera smiled, taking a careful sip of Fizzyglug; once you got used to the bubbles, it really wasn’t that bad. “By the time we really have children, we should be experts at it.”

Kanan paused with his last forkful of salad halfway to his mouth. “Er...not any time soon, though, right?

“Oh, good skies, no!” Hera laughed. She couldn't imagine adding a youngling to the mix of impossible odds, dangerous missions and constant action that was life aboard the _Ghost_. Perhaps someday ...“We have our hands full with those three, and they’re theoretically able to look after themselves!” Kanan looked so relieved at her answer that she couldn’t help teasing him by adding, ”Though Chopper and Zeb were quite adorable with Pypey and baby Alora,” just to see the way his green eyes widened like a startled kneeb’s.

“I’ll, uh...get the dishes,” he said, rising and taking her empty salad plate. “You’re a culinary genius, turning nothing but a bowl of greens into dinner.”

Hera gathered the cutlery and glasses. “Thank you, I know there wasn’t much of it…”

“It’s all right,” he said, taking the green plasti tumblers from her. He set them on the counter and pulled her into a kiss. “You go set up the holo, and I’ll make some bang-corn.”

Hera went out to the common area while Kanan finished clearing the table. She pulled the dejarik table out from the semi-circular acceleration couch so that she and Kanan wouldn’t have to squeeze themselves into the narrow gap between the table and couch. One of the drawers beneath the couch held several extra cushions, necessary if one intended to sit there for any length of time; starship furniture was not designed for comfort. She arranged them on the couch and was adjusting the holo-projector’s focus when Kanan entered, carrying a large bowl full of freshly popped bang-corn. 

“So what are we watching tonight?” he asked, settling onto the couch. “Please not _Gar-Jen Versus Gargantua_ again.” Zeb and Ezra were inordinately fond of Jedi Action holovids-- partly for the action, partly for the scantily clad females, and partly, Hera suspected, for the way that Kanan would wince at the inaccuracies through the entire holo.

“Do you really think that’s something I would choose?” Hera slid the holo disc into the player, and a slightly blurry version of the Narrew Siblings Studio logo appeared and lazily revolved above the projector. “No, tonight we're watching _We’ll Always Have Taris_ , the epic love story of Revan and Bastila Shan.”

“I thought the Empire banned that one! How did you manage to find a copy?”

Hera gave him a mysterious smile as she joined him on the couch. “I have my ways.” She didn’t think this was the time to mention that, among his various other sidelines. Lando Calrissian did a thriving trade in bootleg holos. 

On the projector’s viewing field, the bulky form of the cruiser _Endar Spire_ crawled past, amidst a barrage of scarlet laser fire from the Sith fleet. Almost lost among the chaos, a tiny escape pod plummeted to the planet, crashing into its dismal looking undercity.

Like a pack of hunting anoobas a knot of evil looking gangsters surrounded the pod; one pried open the door of the dented craft. An unreasonably attractive young woman in a skintight jumpsuit--really? Hera could only assume that came from the imagination of a male director--leapt out of the lifepod brandishing a yellow, double-bladed lightsaber and began carving a path through the ever-growing ranks of gangsters.

Kanan frowned. “This isn’t historically accurate,” he complained. “Bastila lost her lightsaber in the crash and…”

Hera laid a finger over his lips. “It’s only a holo.”

“But…”

“Hush, love. Watch the holo and eat your bang-corn.”

Kanan sighed, but leaned back against the couch, munching a handful of bang-corn as instructed. Hera curled up closer to him, nestling her head against the solid warmth of his shoulder. With the extra cushions, the acceleration couch was quite comfortable, and the day’s hectic pace was starting to catch up with her. The rise and fall of Kanan's chest beneath her cheek and the steady cadence of his heartbeat were as soothing as a lullaby, comforting as a favorite blanket. Hera closed her eyes, just for a moment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the complete story of Kanan’s trials and tribulations with his stripped flux-torque casing see @Findswoman’s _Insert Tab A Into Slot B_


	4. Chapter 4

“It’s not my fault!”

“You’re the one who let go of the repulsor cart!”

“And you’re the one overloaded it so I couldn’t steer it!”

“Maybe if you had a few muscles!”

“Maybe if you used your brains and not your muscles!”

“Waaah waah waah!” Chopper opened and closed his graspers like a pair of yapping mouths. 

Sabine sighed as she followed the droid up the _Ghost’s_ ramp. “You said it, Chop.” Ezra and Zeb had been arguing all the way back from North Hoofstra about who was to blame for letting a cart full of freeze-dried protein cubes and canned topato soup crash into the Phantom, putting another nice dent in the left lateral fin...and which one of them was going to tell Hera.

When the entered the main corridor, Chopper stopped so suddenly that Sabine bumped into him. He wheeled forward cautiously, holding up one grasper. “Bwaaa!”

“What…?” The droid pointed towards the common area; A faint, staticky hissing noise emanated from the room, which was lit only by an eerie, pale blue light. Sabine froze, putting a hand on each of her Westar blasters, and crept forward cautiously to see what had Chopper so concerned. “Oh!” 

The holo projector was on, and it was the source of both the blue light and the hissing noise as it displayed a lazily revolving Brosso Mark logo, as it did when it was left on after a holo finished. Normally, Hera would have had a fit if someone did that--wasting the _Ghost’s_ reserve power. A large bowl half-full of bang-corn had spilled on the floor, creating a trail of corn from the couch to the comm terminal--another thing that usually would have Hera spitting blaster bolts. Somehow Sabine doubted that Hera cared at the moment, though.

Because Chopper was pointing to a large, dark form across the room: Hera and Kanan on the couch...

Asleep.

Hera’s head was resting on Kanan's shoulder, lolled forward at an angle that looked decidedly uncomfortable, and her mouth was slightly open. Kanan’s arm was pinned behind her. His head rested on top of hers, and he was snoring faintly.

“What’s going on?” Ezra asked Sabine, as the guys came up behind her. He peered over her shoulder; Zeb looked over her head and laughed.

“So this is what they do when we’re not here? Huh. I always figured…”

“Zeb!” Sabine knelt down and started sweeping the spilled bang-corn back into the bowl; one less thing for Hera to mess with when she woke.

“Should we wake ’em up?” Ezra frowned, cocking his head to one side to match the angle of his master’s. “That doesn’t look very comfortable.”

“Nah!” Zeb chuckled evilly. “I’ve got a better idea; I’m going to get your paints, Sabine. These two could really use some mustaches.”

“Garazeb Orrelios! How old are you again?!” Like she would let him use her paints for that! She scooped the rest of the corn and set the bowl on the dejarik table next to the stuttering holo projector.

“Aww, c’mon, it’ll be fun!” 

“No.” Sabine planted her fists on her hips adamantly. Someone had to be the mature one around here. She gave the Lasat a sidelong look. “Just think, if you go to bed while they’re still asleep ...who knows how the Phantom got that dent? I certainly don’t.”

The two exchanged glances and Zeb’s green eyes lit up. “Like the way you think!” he exclaimed, punching her lightly on the shoulder. 

Sabine shook her head as they headed off to their cabin, chuckling gleefully to each other at the thought of having gotten away with their careless shenanigans in North Hoofstra. _Boys, really ..._. She turned back towards the couch to regard Hera and Kanan; the way they were sleeping really didn’t look comfortable, and yet...they looked kind of sweet together, cuddled up like that. Sabine carefully edged open one of the drawers beneath the couch, slid out a blanket, and gently tucked it around them, smiling. They’d wake up on their own, sooner or later; why disturb them? 

In the meantime, Zeb’s comment about her paints gave her an idea….  
\------------------  
The first thing Hera noticed when she woke was the persistent ache in her neck and back. She felt like she was a piece of flimsi-craft that had been folded into a not-very-attractive shape--a somewhat flattened Alderaanian swan, perhaps. The second thing was that she definitely was not in her cabin. She was still on the couch in the common room, with her head propped uncomfortably on Kanan’s right shoulder; he was slumped forward, leaning heavily against her. Hera nudged him. His head flopped backwards with a grunting “snnnrrkkk”. 

“Kanan, wake up!”

He stirred groggily. “Huh? Wha…?”

“Wake up.” Hera nudged him again until he opened his eyes. “We fell asleep watching the holo.” She checked her chrono with a frown. “And we slept on the acceleration couch all night.” 

“We did?” Kanan blinked muzzily at her, wincing as he straightened. “Ugh...I guess this means I'm getting old…”

“Never, love,” Hera replied, caressing his cheek fondly. 

He shifted on the couch, turning to wrap his arms around her, and his eyes sought hers in the dim light of the common area. “I’m sorry our romantic evening didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to. Maybe I should have woken you for the holo, but you looked so peaceful sleeping on my shoulder. And you were so warm and cozy next to me, I guess I fell asleep, too.”

“I don’t care about the holo,” she whispered, leaning into his embrace. “All I wanted was time with you.”

She felt his mouth curve into a smile, his goatee brushing against her cheek. “I just hope the kids didn’t see us like this.” 

“Oh, they did.” Her lips quirked into an answering smile. “We didn’t have the blanket when we fell asleep.”

“We’ll be hearing about it later, I’m sure,” he snorted. “Next time, you and I can go on the supply run and leave them at home. Who’s going to know if we take a little extra time to….”

“Kanan!” She smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

“Have dinner!” His face was absolutely straight, but that roguish twinkle danced in his eyes. “I was going to say have dinner.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. “Drinks.” Another kiss, a little firmer. “Dessert.” And this time, his kiss was quite insistent. 

“Mmm… Dinner sounds lovely.” Hera smiled when they drew apart. “I’ll have to see if Commander Sato’s going to need more supplies soon. Right now, though, I’d say it’s time for breakfast.” 

She started to rise, but Kanan drew her back to the couch. “Are you sure? No one else is awake yet. We could have a few more quiet moments to ourselves.” His arms encircled her; his lips brushed hers again, lightly at first...

The whoosh of a cabin door opening, followed by Ezra’s not-so-furtive “Remember, we don’t know _anything_ about what happened to the _Phantom_!” interrupted them. The kiss dissolved into a shared sigh and a knowing glance. Another day aboard the _Ghost_ had begun.

Kana gave her a wry smile. “I’ll go get the caf started,” he said, kissing her forehead as he rose.

As he disappeared into the galley, Hera picked the blanket up from where it lay puddled on the floor and shook it out to fold it. A piece of flimsi fluttered down. She bent to retrieve it; how had that gotten there? 

On it was a drawing in Sabine’s inimitable style, captioned “Hera and Kanan’s Date Night.” The picture showed Hera asleep, her head pillowed on Kanan's shoulder, his head resting against hers. They didn’t look like a pair of stodgy parental figures who couldn’t stay awake through an entire holo, they looked peaceful and loving--their awkward slumber somehow turned into a tender moment. Hera looked down at it, and a slow smile touched her lips. 

No, her date night with Kanan hadn’t been what she planned. It hadn’t been what she wished for...but perhaps it had been special after all.


End file.
